


Push

by Kirsten



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-01
Updated: 2003-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirsten/pseuds/Kirsten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie's in the car when it happens, sitting in the driver's seat with his knuckles white around the wheel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Push

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift for eleanorb in 2003.

Bodie's in the car when it happens, sitting in the driver's seat with his knuckles white around the wheel. He watches Doyle pound out of the cop shop across the road, curses and threats echoing behind him. Doyle dives into the car headfirst through the open back window, and Bodie peels away with screeching tires.

"I got it," Doyle says, triumph writ large all over his face as he waves the file in front of Bodie's face.

Bodie shoves Doyle's hand away. "Pack it in."

"Keep your knickers on." Doyle laughs and climbs into the passenger seat. Bodie sets his mouth in a line and doesn't look at him. Concentrates on not blowing a gasket, on not running them off the road because he can't see straight with the rage. Resists the urge to take the next turn off and park up in a side street and throttle Doyle's stupid, stupid neck.

His silence must be telling. "It was your idea, you know," Doyle points out. "Not a good one, either, but it got the job done."

Bodie sighs, his temper cooling to a slow simmer. "You didn't have to agree."

"Yes, I did," Doyle says, and they don't speak again until they're standing in front of Cowley, who looks very, very angry.

"You did what?"

Bodie bounces on the balls of his feet. "Doyle ran in and stole it."

"It was Bodie's idea," Doyle protests.

"You didn't have to agree," Bodie repeats through gritted teeth.

"You're both bloody idiots," snaps Cowley. "You for thinking it up, and you for following it through. You got the file, and tipped our hand while you were at it. Get out of my sight."

Bodie follows Doyle out, and they stand in the corridor outside Cowley's office. He glances at Doyle; Doyle is staring at the ceiling, a scowl on his face, his lips moving as he counts slowly to ten.

Bodie takes a deep breath. Releases it, slowly. "Fancy a pint?"

"No," Doyle says. "I'm going home," and he walks off down the corridor.

Bodie waits until Doyle has disappeared around a corner and then bangs his fist against the wall. It hurts. It's something smaller to be angry about.

The drive home through London traffic is terrible and slow. He's in the car for half an hour and has travelled half a mile before he decides to go to the pub alone. He pulls over and walks into the Percy Arms. Half a mile from work and it's full of lonely agents. He ignores them and heads for the bar. CI5 headquarters, he thinks with a dark laugh and smiles at the barmaid and asks for a pint.

She's pretty, and she helps him pass the time. Any other day he'd hang around until closing and take her home, but sex in anger is never pretty. He finishes his pint and says goodbye, goes back to his car and drives the rest of the way home, drumming his fingertips on the wheel, squeezing the gear stick hard and imagining it's Doyle's throat.

Doyle is waiting on his doorstep.

Bodie lets him in without a word, and Doyle helps himself to scotch and sits down on the floor. Bodie's got no furniture at the minute, because CI5 admin haven't quite caught up with his movements. It'll be a while before his stuff gets shifted over from the last place.

Bodie sits opposite Doyle and watches him drink. Doyle watches him back, and when the scotch is gone he puts down the glass and pulls Bodie close. Unfastens his trousers, slips his hand inside and strokes.

Bodie grimaces and pushes Doyle back onto the rough, old carpet, pushes his face into Doyle's neck and bites and sucks, leaving tiny little marks as Doyle's hand squeezes his cock. Roughness on his hands and on his tongue as he braces above Doyle and licks a wet stripe down Doyle's unshaven throat. The room is warm and empty and smells like sweat and heat, and all Bodie can hear is the sound of Doyle breathing, panting, loud and harsh in the silence. Doyle's cock is hard against his hip, and Bodie reaches down and fumbles Doyle's jeans open, pumping him fast and hard.

Doyle comes with his head thrown back, spine arched and bent, a little gasping cry forcing its way from his throat. Bodie hears it and bites Doyle again, coming with a grunt, on the floor, still dressed, with his CI5 partner held tight in his arms.

They lay quietly, just breathing, letting things settle back into place, if they can, if they have a place. Bodie isn't sure they do, not now. But Doyle is licking his neck, and stroking his back with gentle hands, and Bodie wonders if Doyle thinks they can find a new place to rest.

He lifts his head from Doyle's throat and looks at him, dizzy and anxious. "This is a bad idea," he whispers.

"You don't have to agree," Doyle whispers back.

Bodie's brain works very fast. This is Doyle, his mind tells him, and that's all there is to it. He kisses Doyle on the lips, slow and wet, and Doyle smiles and laughs and gives it his all, just as with everything else.


End file.
